And the stocking-fic posting frenzy continues! :) Uh, heads up, this one is definitly one of the "er, I've never written anything quite like this before..." fics.
Title: Deductive Exercises
[AO3]Fandoms: BBC’s Sherlock, Doctor Who
Wordcount: ~250
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Doctor and Sherlock try to figure out this whole “sex” thing. Jack Harkness helps.
Notes/Disclaimers: Originally posted
here, for
robling_t. I own neither BCC's Sherlock nor the Whoniverse, and I'm not making any money from this fic.
Sherlock’s phone buzzes.
“Who’s that, then?” asks the Doctor.
Sherlock doesn’t look up from his task. “Harkness. Again.”
“You don’t know that.”
With a look of wordless scorn, Sherlock stretches his arm out, retrieves the phone from his pocket, and hands it to the Doctor.
“Oh. Look,” says the Doctor, sheepishly, “it’s from Jack. It says... er, it says, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. What about this one? Winky face. Well, that doesn’t make much - oh, no, I see, he’s attached a photo. Hang on... oh. My.”
Sherlock leans in, interested despite himself. “Hmm. Intriguing.”
“I didn’t think you humans could bend that way,” says the Doctor, fascinated.
“Well, I can’t,” says Sherlock tersely, “so don’t be getting any ideas. Harkness is an unusually flexible specimen, by twenty-first century standards.”
“They look like they’re in pain,” says the Doctor, apparently unable to look away from the tiny image.
Sherlock sighs, and climbs to his feet. “Doctor, I’ve reached a conclusion.”
“Hmm?”
“Sex is a fundamentally illogical behaviour. Attempting to logically deduce its appeal would require the near complete destruction of our collective mental capacity.”
“Oh.” The Doctor considers this. “So we’re giving up?”
Sherlock shrugs. “I see no point in continuing. I personally plan to delete this whole experience from my memory.”
“Oh, thank God.” The Doctor grabs for his pants, and begins struggling back into them. “I was starting to chafe. Feel like a trip to Belious Prime?”
Sherlock considers this. “Will there be crime?”
“I could land us in the slums,” the Doctor offers, genially.
Sherlock grins. “Perfect.”
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